Chapter Three
1125 Words
“What the f....,” I whispered to myself, dropping slowly to my knees in disbelief.
It was surreal to see the doll-like girl mimic my actions. When I lifted my hand, so did she. When my mouth moved, so did hers. Like some sort of messed up trick room.
She was nothing like the body I was used to. With perfect golden hair, full lips, and an angelic-like face, she was my complete opposite in every way. Not to mention she was strong. I could sense it even seated on the ground, some sort of weird energy swirling inside. It made me feel as though I could run a marathon without breaking into a sweat. There wasn’t a single trace of the achy joints and occasional back pain I’d gotten used to, acquired from my many years sitting hunched over in a computer chair. This girl was quite literally in perfect physical condition.
But how could she be me? Was I reincarnated? Did such a thing even exist?
If that were true, why was I now in the body of a girl who looked around nineteen instead of a baby? Was this some kind of joke being played by a divine power?
The more I looked at her though, the less I seemed to care.
No, I could definitely get used to this.
Before I could get too comfortable though, a crashing sound then came from outside the bedroom, immediately catching my attention. The kind of noise similar to breaking glass or ceramic. Was something happening? Despite everything going on, my curiosity still got the better of me.
Nervously, I got back onto my feet and peeked out of the door, finding a large hallway that seemed almost endless. Similar to the bedroom, everything out here was also expensively decorated, complete with wood furnishings and elaborate paintings that took up the space everywhere I looked. But as I quietly tried to investigate the source of the noise, I came across something I definitely wasn’t prepared for.
It was quite possibly the most confronting thing I’d ever witnessed, the kind of condition I could only somewhat liken to the TV ads I’d seen, the ones seeking people to sponsor starving children.
How could I possibly be looking at this now, especially in such a place that obviously wasn’t struggling for money?
She was crouched over pieces of a broken vase, a young girl, probably in her late teens, picking up the shards with skeletal like fingers. It wasn’t just her fingers either. Her cheeks and arms showed the same, looking so malnourished it was as if she hadn’t eaten properly in months. Maybe even years. But what really made me feel disgusted was her skin. The bruises I could see just poking out from under the ragged and dirty dress she wore, some more blue than others.
What kind of monster could do this to another person?
“Are you okay?” I asked, moving down to help her pick up the pieces. “Let me help you.”
She looked up as I spoke, but quickly dropped everything as she saw me. It was within her eyes that I witnessed fear unlike anything I had ever seen before.
Pure and undeniable terror.
I stopped moving when she flinched, not wanting to make her more scared. Instead, I moved a step backwards and reassessed my approach.
“Who did this to you?” I asked gently. “Was it the people here? Did they hurt you?”
But she didn’t reply, almost as if she were frozen in place by my presence. I knew it was going to make rescuing her more difficult if she didn’t trust me. What choice did I have though? She was clearly being abused to a horrific degree. If the people here could do this to her, what was to stop them from doing this to me?
Despite my best efforts to get her to respond, she still refused to budge. Instead, before I could attempt any other approach, we were then interrupted.
“Scarlett, you’re finally awake!” a young man shouted from down the hallway. “Do you know how worried we were about you?”
The moment I looked in his direction, he immediately started moving towards me.
...‘Scarlett’? Was he talking to me? I glanced around again at the space surrounding us, but there really only was myself and the bruised girl huddled on the floor. And, somehow, I didn’t think he was talking to her.
...‘Scarlett’. Didn’t that name sound somewhat familiar though? I couldn’t place it, but for some reason I felt as though I’d heard that name recently. Did that potentially mean something? Was it a clue as to what was happening? But how could it be? I was a completely different person now, finding myself inside an entirely unfamiliar looking mansion. I would definitely remember a place as fancy as this.
As the man grew closer, the girl on the floor quickly curled herself up more. I stared at her as I studied her reaction, but it was hard to pass off what I was seeing with any other explanation. She was very obviously trying to make herself appear smaller than she was. The kind of reaction you’d have to someone who hurt you. Someone who... trapped you...
...‘Scarlett’.
...... Scarlett... Scarlett... Scarlett...
As in... Scarlett from the werewolf book I’d just read?
No.
The realisation of what was potentially happening slowly started to tick in my head, pieces of my earlier confusion now suddenly making more sense if it were true. An explanation for the bizarre situation I was in.
But as I thought on it more, I then realised something else very quickly. A small but very important detail I hadn’t immediately put together.
Because if I was Scarlett... then didn’t that mean...?
Fear trickling down my spine, I turned my head slowly to look back down at the girl on the floor.
“...Aurora...?” I choked out quietly.
It couldn’t be. There was no such thing as werewolves or magic, right? I had to be making this all up or be severely confused by the situation. I’d just read those silly books for fun, escaping from daily life to enjoy a world of make-believe and fantasy for a short while.
...But my worst fears were then confirmed when the girl responded to the name, her eyes hesitantly looking up at me in fear. Cementing that this really was happening. That there was no longer any way I could deny it.
...I was living inside the last werewolf novel I’d read... but I wasn’t the protagonist of this story.
I was the villainess.
- Writer
